Silence
by OOHiMBLiND
Summary: Something happened to Pete while on a mission in Egypt. It's up to Artie, Myka, Claudia, and the warehouse world to figure out the puzzle before it's too late. Some interesting developments between our favorite secret agents happen in the process. More
1. Chapter 1

**Warehouse 13 :: Silence**

**\/***\/**

Title: Silence

Synopsis: Something happened to Pete while on a mission in Egypt that has landed him in the hospital. It's up to Artie, Myka, Claudia, and the warehouse gang to figure out the puzzle before it's too late. Some interesting developments between our favorite secret agents happen in the process.

Background: Picks up around the time of "Buried", except no Warehouse 2 and no HG Wells. The mission to Egypt was just like any other. Sort of.

Ships: M/P, C/T

_**AUTHOR NOTE**_: First Warehouse 13 fic…so yeah. Go easy on me. And for those of you reading Chuck vs the Virus, I haven't stopped that one…I'm just…looking for inspiration or motivation.

**/\***/\**

**One**

The books thudded onto the table in front of Myka and Claudia, shaking the old, rustic table. Claudia sat bolt upright in surprise, then slumped over at the sight of the two piles of overlarge books. Myka didn't flinch from her stance. Her head was in her hands, her palms pressing in on her temples, and her elbows propped up on the table. She stared at the table, eyes wide.

Artie watched her for a moment, then sighed. "Myka?" Claudia shot him a warning glance and shook her head. He raised an eyebrow and pushed his glasses back up his nose. _What?_ he mouthed.

"Myka, are you alright?" asked Claudia, putting a hand onto her friend's back.

"No, Claudia, I'm not alright," said Myka, not moving from her position. Claudia whipped her hand back, looking sheepish, and a little offed. Myka looked up, heaved a sigh, and then crossed her arms on the table in front of her. "I'm sorry…" she said, shutting her eyes. "It's not you, of course, it's…this stupid situation."

"We're going to find out what's wrong with him," said Artie. "We haven't failed yet, have we?"

Myka looked at him, but didn't answer the question, as though she was challenging the idea in her head but couldn't bring herself to actually say the words. The truth was, they had failed some people. Not everyone who was infected or affected by an artifact had survived. Many lives had been sacrificed as these artifacts reared their ugly heads to pursue world domination. Or whatever the hell they were trying to do.

Artie began shuffling around the room, looking for something in particular as he spoke rapidly and, as always, rather disjointedly. "Look, there is a lot more we haven't covered. While you were in Egypt there were many things you and Pete could have encountered."

"We are never ten feet from each other," said Myka, flashing back to the time Pete had told her the exact same thing. "What are the chances that something that happened to him doesn't happen to me?"

Artie stopped and looked around. "About 50-50," he said. "Maybe a little greater for you because you're a woman." Myka looked offended and Artie put up his hands as he went on to explain. "It's just an observation I've made over the years, there's nothing about being a woman that makes you less capable. In fact, when Pete is out on missions I am surprised more things _don't _affect him the way he has to touch everything and put things in his mouth. Anyway…the observation…these artifacts are drawn to the most powerful source of energy, which tends to be a woman based on a combination of electromagnetic impulses to the brain and…"

"Can we skip the PBS special, right now, Artimus?" asked Claudia, holding up her hand. "As _interesting_ as this is…"

"Right, right," said Artie, waving his hand again. He began rummaging through his desk and finally pulled out a chalkboard half the size of the table. Another few moments of digging revealed the piece of chalk. "Let's go over your time in Egypt again, except this time we are going to use you, Myka, as our unique advantage," said Artie. "You have a photographic memory, do you not?"

Claudia sighed and her eyes glazed over. "Todd has a photographic memory."

"Claudia, focus," said Artie. "We need a device, an artifact, that can allow us to get a visual representation of her memories. Can you think of anything like that?"

"Those kinds of devices can't work," said Myka. "The brain doesn't record memories in a way that we can visually interpret them."

Artie nodded. "Yes, yes, I know. Except that we aren't really watching your memories as your brain records them in this instance. What I want you to do is relive your time in Egypt, as you remember it, using the power of your photographic memory to _make_ your brain output visual data."

Claudia sat up again. "Oh!" she shouted. "I've got it, but it might need a little tweaking…"

Artie frowned and stared at her over the top of his glasses. "What kind of tweaking?" he asked.

"Nothing that will blow the building up or harm us or any of the artifacts," said Claudia rolling her eyes. "I remember thinking about this a couple weeks ago when I ran across an artifact doing inventory." She got up and scooted over to the computer. "There is an artifact in here that the really old school doctors used to use for imaging people's guts. It's only a black and white display, but, if we hauled Pete's HDTV in here, I could totally amp up the display."

"Cushing's Ring was not used to image patients' guts," said Artie, tapping his chin, slightly annoyed. "But it may do what we need…how do you need to modify it?"

"What is Cushing's Ring?" asked Myka.

"Harold 'Harring' Cushing, brother of Harvey Cushing," said Artie. "While Harvey spent his time in helping to develop something that was possible within the current medical scope of reality, Harold strove for bigger and greater things. After his brother successfully used x-rays and the new non-invasive form of measuring intra-arterial pressure to locate blood clots and brain tumors in the brain, Harring decided to sell his own invention, the Ring, later named Cushing's Ring after Harring's death, to the government. Well, pieces of the original makeup were forged from the fires of turn of the century monks…"

"And being monks, their work was inherently imbued with ethereal properties that caused it to do more than it was designed to do?" asked Myka, bobbing her head from side-to-side.

Artie stopped talking and stuttered. "Well…yes, I guess so." He frowned. "If you want to take all the fun out of it."

"So what is the long and short of it, then?" asked Myka, starting to gleam hope again.

"Harring's device is for imaging the brain," said Artie. "These books..." he rapped his knuckles on the books on the table, "these books have a pretty concise synopsis of the artifacts that have any connection to strong mythological, spiritual, or metaphysical event or person over the last 3,000 years." He adjusted his glasses. "On its own, the Ring works like..like a supercharged ultrasound for mapping neural pathways."

"But if combined with modern technology, i.e. the digital spectroscope, you can hotwire it to the back of a television and see the electrons firing inside the brain...which the spectroscope will amplify and bust out 3D images of whatever the person is _seeing_," said Claudia. She reached up to fist bump Artie, and he looked at her hand, confused, before slapping it away and shoving her away from the desk. She threw up her hands, then crossed them.

"Should we be doing all this closer to Pete?" asked Myka, looking between Claudia and Artie. "What if we find something and need to act quickly? Or what if he wakes up and can tell us something?"

"Whatever is happening to Pete…it doesn't matter if we are here or at the hospital…" Artie trailed off, unable to finish a complete thought. "Kelly is there with him now, she knows to call us if there is any change."

Myka flinched and recoiled back into herself, folding her arms tightly across her stomach and sitting back in her chair. Artie, who was typing at the computer, did not notice, but Claudia stared at her bluntly, curious at her behavior.

"Kelly doesn't know what the heck is going on," said Myka. "If he starts emanating light…or…or…elevating off the bed…or…talking in a foreign language, Kelly isn't going to know what to do. She's not going to think about what artifact he may have come into contact with, or what kind of countermeasures we might need to put in place to prevent him from getting worse. She's a vet."

Artie turned around slowly in his chair, his hands still in the position of typing at the computer. The look on his face was exasperated and his tone reflected the thoughts of a man who didn't need to be bothered with a woman's crazy banter.

"First off, it's good to see that your concern for Pete has strengthened since you first arrived at the warehouse," said Artie, moving his arms to push his glasses back up on his face. "Second, why the crazy? We're going to figure this out." He stood up. "I am going to go retrieve the artifact from the warehouse…Claudia, I need you to round up the things you need to rig the television to display the Ring images, and…" he stared at Myka, "well, maybe both of you should go get Pete's television. And get Leena while you're there. We need as many hands as we can get." He grabbed glasses and gloves on his way out the door, mumbling something to himself.

Myka stood up and grabbed her coat. Claudia got to her feet and followed Myka out the door into the tunnel that would return them to ground level.

"Okay, what is going on?" asked Claudia, shuffling along beside Myka. "What was that in there? Dude, you like totally freaked out."

"I did not freak out," said Myka, not looking down at Claudia. "I was just trying to be sure we were going about this the right way, that's all."

"That is not all," said Claudia. "You have never freaked out like that about anyone. I've never seen you like that." Myka stopped walking and Claudia ran into her. "Whoa," said Claudia, gripping the wall for balance.

"Look…" said Myka, "Pete is…Pete…" She rolled her eyes and began walking again. "Nevermind."

Claudia jumped to a jog to catch up. "No, I totally get it," said Claudia. "Pete means a lot to me too. I know you and he have been working together a little bit longer, so I know I can't totally understand. But it was really hard seeing him like that. Even before he was unconscious."

Myka stopped again, but this time Claudia was prepared. She stopped short and backed up a pace. Myka leaned forward, her eyes wide and her hair falling in front of her face. "It's not the same," said Myka. "Pete and I, we are partners and we're…" she took a deep breath.

Claudia cocked her head and, very non-sarcastically, made her observation. "You're in love with him."

Myka rolled her eyes. "I am not in _love_ with Pete."

Claudia shook her head. "No, you totally are. Dude, I'm freaking out inside, but I can think straight. You can't think straight."

Myka clenched her jaw. "I can think just fine," she said.

"Then if you aren't in love with him, what is going on? You are clearly not okay," said Claudia.

Myka stood up straight and craned her necked. She shut her eyes and rolled her head, cracking her neck. "When we were in Egypt…Pete said that Kelly…" she paused and opened her eyes, giving Claudia an unfamiliar look.

"Pete said that Kelly…what?" Claudia prompted.

With one hand, Myka flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "For the last year…Pete and I have worked side-by-side, all day every day. I know his favorite cereals in order, from one to ten. I know that the year before his father died, he gave Pete a dog that stayed with the family until Pete graduated from high school. I know that despite what he says, he hates it when I drive. I know Pete. I know Pete better than Kelly does."

Claudia looked even more confused now. "Okay, that is probably true. Granted, I don't know Pete's favorite cereals in order, so I doubt Kelly does. But where are you going with this?"

"In Egypt, Pete said Kelly was his _one_," said Myka, blinking rapidly.

"His one…?" said Claudia, thinking hard. "You mean like _the_ one?"

Myka shook her head. "No, like, we're all allowed to reveal what we do to one person, and only one."

Claudia nodded, "Oh, the Only One Rule. Yes, check. Tell the wrong person and you're screwed." She looked impressed. "Wow, I didn't think Pete could actually make a decision like that."

Myka crossed her arms. "Me neither."

Claudia cocked her head again. "You need to start filling in some blanks here, Myka. Cuz I'm still lost."

Myka shut her eyes again, crossing her arms. "I just…I want him to be happy," said Myka. "That's all."

Claudia grabbed Myka's arm before she could walk away again. "That is _so_ not all. Dude, you totally love him."

"Haven't we already been over this?" said Myka, stomping her foot.

Claudia shook her head. "You can't have it both ways, Myka," said Claudia, seriously. She put a hand on Myka's arm. "Either you want Pete to be happy _and_ you are happy he's found the person he wants to tell his secret to, or you want Pete to be happy and _you_ want to be the person who makes him happy."

A tear started to form at the corner of Myka's eye as she gazed at Claudia for several moments, but she quickly wiped it away, keeping her eyes wide and focused so as to prevent more tears from spilling. "So? What if I do want to be the one that makes him happy. That doesn't mean I'm in love with him."

Claudia laughed and patted Myka on the arm. "Yes, actually it does." She shook her head, smiling, and walked passed Myka along the tunnel. "Come on, let's go get our junk."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," said Myka, following Claudia closely. "Not three days ago he was asking you and I whether or not he should be moving in with Kelly. If he doesn't reciprocate my feelings, I am not going to jump in and suggest it now."

It was hard to talk on the narrow stairs leading up to ground level, so she waited until they sat in Myka's car before continuing the conversation. "Generally, I might agree with you on that. But in this case…Myka, this is Pete we're talking about. You are _in love with Pete_." She threw up her hands and then rested her head in one of them, leaning against the center arm rest. "This is going to take a while to wrap my head around."

Myka gripped the steering wheel. "Yeah, you're telling me."

"When did this even start?" asked Claudia.

The engine started and the car began to move. "I'm not entirely sure," said Myka, quietly. "Maybe I'm confusing my concern for his well-being with something stronger."

Claudia shrugged. "Or…it took him being in this life-and-death situation before you'd let yourself reveal these emotions. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Myka."

"I'm not ashamed," said Myka, drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel. "Pete is a

great guy. Childish, immature, unfocused, and naïve, to be sure, but there is no doubt he is good at his job, has both feet on the ground, and is an incredibly caring, sensitive, and ambitious person..." Her voice trailed off in thought. Claudia watched her for a moment, watching her expressions change with each emotion she experienced.

They drove in silence for much of the trip back into town, mostly because Myka's insane driving was causing Claudia to feel nauseous. Blatantly ignoring the small town's street signs, Myka stormed through town, honking at pedestrians and swerving around slow vehicles.

"Myka, slow down…" said Claudia. "They already think we're IRS, we don't need to piss them off even more by killing a handful of them."

"We need to hurry," said Myka.

"Yeah, well, if we keep hurrying at this rate, Artie is going to have three hospitalized agents to worry about. Or…two and a half...agents...," said Claudia, gripping the arm rests.

Myka flew into Leena's driveway, threw the car into park, and hopped out. "Come on, Claud. Let's get that television."


	2. Chapter 2

**Warehouse 13 :||: Silence**

/*

* Disclaimer: I do not have photographic memory, nor do I claim to know much literal, first-

* hand stuff about it…so yeah. Just go with it.

*/

**Two**

Together, Claudia and Myka managed to get the television down the stairs without dropping it. Leena was right behind them, carrying the box of supplies Claudia needed to rig the television to host the images from The Ring.

"Why did you have to buy Pete such a huge-ass television?" asked Claudia, grunting under the weight of the monitor.

Waddling, Myka regripped the TV and glanced over her shoulder as they rounded the bend along the tunnel to the main office. "When I bought it I wasn't anticipating ever having to move it again, much less transport it into the warehouse," she said, rolling her eyes.

Leena slid past them to open the door. The women got the television inside and hoisted it up onto the smaller table, that had fewer books on it. Artie was hunched over a pile of books on the floor, the chalkboard next to him filled with small phrases, some of which were crossed out. Leena handed the box she was holding to Claudia, who immediately set to work.

Artie looked up. "Good, you're back. That was really fast," he said, getting to his feet.

"That's because Myka drives like a crazy person," said Claudia, under her breath. Myka shot her a hard look, which she didn't see.

Ignoring the mumbling, Artie reached for Leena and bid her to follow him. "We need to move the chair into this room," said Artie. "I think it will be best to do it in here."

"What should I do, Artie?" asked Myka, craning her neck to watch them as long as they were in sight.

"There is a protein shake on the table outside the file room," Artie shouted. "Drink that."

Myka sighed. "All I can do is drink a protein shake?"

"We're going to be imaging your brain," said Claudia from under the table. "You are going to be doing more than your fair shake in no time Myks."

Myka shrugged. She spotted the shake and walked to it. The liquid was a deep orange color that did not settle well on-sight with her stomach. Her stomach growled, but not in a hungry way. She stared down into the glass, swearing at one moment that the liquid bubbled involuntarily, then shut her eyes and whispered, "You better be worth it, Pete." She tilted her head back and began to drink. It wasn't that bad. It wasn't great, but it wasn't as horrible as it looked.

When she set the glass down again, Artie and Leena had gotten _the chair_ into the office. It looked like a dentist's chair, but much larger and much more intimidating. Artie looked up and must have seen a wary look in Myka's eye because he quickly rounded to the chair to walk toward her.

"Don't be alarmed, my dear," he said. "This is just the only type of chair we have that can support the ring." Myka nodded and allowed Artie to lead her back to it. "Claudia, how is it coming?"

"Good, nearly set," said Claudia. A spark flew out of the back of the television and Claudia yelped. "Electrifying!" She shuddered and pulled her gloves back on.

Artie patted the chair, indicating he'd like Myka to sit down. Myka did so, stretching out the full length of the chair. Her long legs came within inches of the chair's end, which surprised her. At first glance, the chair did not look long enough for her and she was sure her feet would be hanging off the end. She rested her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes.

"There are still a lot of unknowns about this machine," said Artie. "But it _has_ been used before, in a somewhat similar capacity."

Myka held up her hand. "Artie, maybe the less you tell me…the better." The older man nodded. "Don't you need to strap me in or anything?"

"Why would we do that?" asked Artie, stopping to stare at her.

"I thought that's always what you do in this type of situation," said Myka, shrugging.

Chuckling, Artie laid a hand on her shoulder. "You're not going to be unconscious," said Artie. "It's not going to stimulate your brain or cause you to react. It's going to feel like getting an MRI."

"I'm ready over here," said Claudia. "Now I just need to connect the two devices."

Artie shuffled over to the table and picked up a large helmet-looking thing. Wires connected all over and it made Myka picture a mad scientist assembling the chaos, fusing wires together, and then testing it on himself until the correct results had been achieved. She stared at it warily, but Leena held her hand as Artie fastened it correctly to her head and she started to think clearly again.

While Artie and Claudia exchanged annoying banter of the correct and most efficient way to use the spectrometer to connect the Ring device to the television, Myka's mind wandered until she caught Leena's gaze. Myka raised an eyebrow as Leena gave her a steady, almost goofy grin.

"What?" Myka asked, quietly.

Leena shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "Your aura is beautiful right now," she said, leaning in close. "You're positively radiant. I have complete faith that this process will work." She reached up and touched Myka's face with the back of two fingers. "Whatever you're thinking about…keep thinking it. It gives you a great burst of positive energy." Myka's face turned deep red, and Leena's expression changed from joy and giddiness to wonder and curiosity. "Myka?"

Myka shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath, willing her face to change colors and return to normal. The back of her neck began to sweat and Leena's grip on her hand tightened. When Myka peeked her eyes open again, she saw that Leena was laughing silently. That made Myka even more embarrassed, and she decided to keep her eyes shut until Artie and Claudia were ready.

To ease her mind, Myka looked for a happy place that didn't involve Pete. Or the warehouse. Or Artie or Claudia or Leena. She looked for something in the past, someone that could bring her the same solace that she had just found while thinking about Pete, but that wouldn't give her away in such an obvious way. She found this very difficult. Though she knew her life before had been filled with happy times, many with Sam, many with the Secret Service while protecting the President, she couldn't find a memory that gave her an instantaneous feeling of happiness.

She was deciding whether to fight off thinking about Pete again, fully aware that Claudia's explicit acknowledgement of her feelings for Pete was making this all more prominent and noticeable than it had been before, when Artie announced they were ready to begin.

"You may hear a low humming sound when we fire the machine on," said Artie. "It'll sound like…mosquitoes in your ear. At least that's what we've been led to understand. Anyway, ignore the sound, it's normal. We will lead you and prompt you throughout."

"I can't see the screen," said Myka.

"You're not supposed to," said Claudia.

"We need to see what you saw," said Artie. "If _you're_ seeing what you saw as you remember seeing it, you may incorrectly remember events."

Myka blinked. "That almost made sense."

"You already saw all this," said Artie. "If you keep your eyes shut and remember everything as visually as you can, we will see nearly the same thing."

"What do you mean _nearly_?" asked Myka.

Artie sighed and turned Myka's chair so she could see the screen. "Think about my face," said Artie. "No, don't look at me. Just remember me."

Myka thought. She thought about his glasses and his hair, his long face and stubbly chin. Before her eyes she saw an image mapped out on the screen before her that uncannily resembled Artie, incomplete, but still very much resembling it's real-world icon.

"If your eyes were closed right now, the detail would be greater," said Artie. "But this black-and-white image, in this pointillism fashion, is about as much as this will produce."

"Wait," said Leena, looking between Claudia and Artie. "If this is all the detail we are going to get, how are we going to be able to notice anything that might have affected Pete?"

Artie nodded. "Well, like I said, the detail will be greater when her eyes are closed. It's just different for someone with photographic memory. Myka can shut her eyes and pinpoint something exact from a previous experience, or a word from a letter she read, but the rest of the image still exists. So while she is reliving the experience in her mind, the machine will use those detailed pictures she's remembering to recreate the things she doesn't explicitly think about."

"Think about taking a photograph," said Claudia. "Your lens focuses on a person's face, but that doesn't necessarily mean everything else is unfocused."

Leena nodded. "Okay, okay. Just making sure we're not putting Myka through all this for nothing…"

Artie turned Myka around again. "Close your eyes, Myka. Think about my face again."

Simultaneously, Leena and Claudia both drew in breaths. "Whoa," they said, together.

Myka opened her eyes and turned her head so she could see the screen. Artie patted her arm. "No, no, no. If you break your concentration, we can't see what you're seeing. Believe me, what we're seeing is nothing in comparison to what you see."

Myka shut her eyes again. "Yeah, but you're still seeing something…" she mumbled, completely dazzled by the thought.

"All right, Myka," said Artie. "Take us back to your trip. Start from the beginning."

**:||: Pete & Myka land in Egypt :||:**

Myka was digging through her purse looking for the Farnsworth. They hadn't used it since the drive to the airport in South Dakota almost 30 hours ago. Suddenly, Pete caught her by the belt and drew her back, away from the curb. She looked up and watched in horror as a taxicab flew by, right in the space she was about to step into. When Pete let go of her, she realized what he had done and spun around.

"Pete!" she said, angrily.

Pete rolled his eyes, his boyish face responding sarcastically to her less than grateful exclamation. "You're _welcome_," he said. He held both of their bags, each slung easily around his shoulders.

Myka sighed, realizing her hasty response. "Sorry. Thank you for keeping me from getting mauled by a rogue taxi," she said, trying to smile. "Next time can you use your big boy words rather than grabbing my ass?"

"I grabbed your belt, Myka," said Pete. "And I _did_ say something. I said several things, actually, but you were somewhere else."

"What did you say?" she asked, finally finding the Farnsworth. She pulled it out and waved it in front of his face.

"You were looking for the Farnsworth this whole time?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "We need to tell Artie we landed." He drew in a breath, not as though he was annoyed, more like a disappointment, or a resigned understanding of her current mindset. She cocked her head and looked at him. "What is it, Pete? What were you telling me?"

"It's not important," said Pete, looking around. "Let's call Artie."

**:||: The Warehouse :||: **

"Myka…" said Artie, tapping her hand.

"Yeah, Artie?" asked Myka, not opening her eyes. The picture on the screen changed from an incredibly detailed image of Pete's disappointed face, overlaid on an outdoor Egyptian terminal, to an image of Artie. Claudia and Leena giggled.

"This is really good," he said. "This is way more detailed than I could have imagined."

Sighing, Myka peeked one eye open and the image disappeared completely from the screen. "But…" she prompted.

"But we can't see what he's saying, and this is just a conversation…" he said. "Focus less on the conversations and more on the locations. We're assuming Pete has been affected by an artifact and I, of all people, know an artifact can be anywhere. So move through locations, remember the rooms you went into, or the buildings, the outdoor landscapes…think about where artifacts could have been."

Myka shut her eye. "Okay," she said. "I get it."

**:||: Arrival at the first site :||: **

Myka eyed the large stone, that was meant to be a door, very cautiously. If the last year and a half had taught her anything, it was to watch out for things that didn't belong. _But this does belong,_ she said to herself. She traced the door with her eyes, looking closely at the symbols, looking for something that didn't belong. Everything seemed consistent.

Behind her, Pete shuffled impatiently, as he always did while she ensured they were in the clear. It was annoying, and frustrating at times, but his usefulness came in later on. But, since she couldn't just let it go, she turned around to face him.

"Would you like to go first, Mr. Jones?" she asked, bowing slightly and holding out her hands in a gesture that would allow him to pass.

Pete raised an eyebrow. "What? No, no, do your thing, I am just...scoping out everything else."

"You know why I do this, right?" asked Myka, looking around the desert behind him, at the camels they'd ridden in tied up to stakes they'd driven into the ground themselves. The locals who'd rented them the camels said the camels would just as soon eat sand as run away from them, which Myka didn't find entirely comforting. But Pete did, he looked positive about the ordeal and even excited to ride a camel.

The desert stretched on forever. They'd ridden for hours, with a compass that didn't want to work, until they found the place they were looking for. A hunk of rock in the middle of nowhere, claiming to possess the source of the necklace artifact they'd found in central California, belonging to some budding movie star.

Pete kicked some sand lightly and shook his head. "Of course I know why you do it, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to belittle you," he said. He didn't look at her. She knew he wanted to talk, but they didn't have time for that now.

Myka turned back to the door. "Okay, if I were living in Ancient Egypt and I needed to lock a door without a lock, what would I do?" asked Myka, mostly to herself.

"Secret knock?" Pete suggested.

Myka shut her eyes, but did not respond. "A hole, perhaps? Push a rock in? Pull a rock out?" she started feeling the wall of the rock. "What do you think, Pete? What looks like it might open this door? If it were your secret hideout, what would you do?"

"Well, if the secret knock didn't work—"

"Pete—"

"I know, I know…you'd need someone on the inside," said Pete. He moved forward and looked closely at the door. "What are those little pegs there?" he asked, pointing to a section of the door.

As Myka got closer, she reasoned that they weren't really pegs, but sliders, wooden slats that needed to be removed in a specific order to unlock what was traditionally a box. But they were large enough to work for this door, and when she brushed them with her fingers, they felt more like rough marble and it felt prickly warm under her fingers.

""Do you recognize it?" asked Pete.

"Yes," said Myka. "But…shockingly, I never learned how to solve them."

"But you're all about puzzles," said Pete, confidently. "You'll figure it out."

Myka smiled, then wiped it away and stared at the slots on the door.

**:||: The Warehouse :||: **

"Remarkable!" Artie exclaimed. "Simply exquisite." He approached the monitor where they were watching the images Myka was remembering. A vivid depiction of an Egyptian tomb filled the monitor screen.

"Do you want me to keep going?" asked Myka.

"Yes, yes of course," said Artie.

"What are we looking at?" asked Claudia.

"This is supposedly one of Pythagoras's original projects…a key made out of numeric symbols. The answer, of which, is embedded into the door as a reminder in case the individual who built it forgot," said Artie, reaching up and almost touching the screen.

"Anything dark or evil that Pete may have contracted from the, um, wooden…thingys?" asked Claudia.

Artie frowned and looked at her over his glasses. "It's a lock, of course not," he said.

Claudia put up her hands. "Hey, just asking. Last week, anyone who touched that weird Buddha statue burst into flames…so you never know."

"That Buddha was imbued with the dark magic of a sorcerer who lived during the brief period of time where approaching that statue, much more touching it, was thought to bring about positive karma for anyone and everyone living in that village," said Artie angrily. "The sorcerer was capitalizing on the people's ignorance."

"Okay, okay," said Claudia.

"Guys, it's hard to concentrate while you're distracting me," said Myka, her tone gradually increasing as she spoke. The image on the screen flickered between memories of Claudia and Artie and the door of the Egyptian tomb."

"Sorry," Claudia mumbled.

"So you got through the door," said Artie. "What happened next?"

"Don't you want to see how I figured it out?" asked Myka, upset.

Artie sighed. "Some other time. Remember Pete? We're trying to figure out what happened. Let's focus."

The image on the screen switched suddenly to a dark, torch-lit room. Pete was holding a torch and walking ahead of her down a passageway. He kept his hand on one wall and Myka's eyes focused in on it. There were markings on the wall they couldn't quite make out. Claudia coughed loud and the image seemed to shift, focusing less on Pete's hand and more on the wall it was touching.

"Okay, okay…" said Artie, mostly to himself. "Now, these images are telling the story of the cave. It is a tomb, but this symbol here, it's used to dignify a…a double purpose. A cave used as a tomb and as a resting place."

"What's the difference?" asked Claudia.

"Well, we can assume a couple things," said Artie. "First, since the entrance stood above ground, the tomb will be at least fifty feet below the surface. Second, since there is a passage immediately behind the door, there will be at least two chambers just below the surface, and I do mean just below. A narrow set of stairs should appear shortly…"

At that moment, Pete began to get shorter, until Myka's view shifted and stairs appeared on the screen. Artie let out a satisfied sound of familiarity and they let the images tell the story.

"What we think is missing from this cavern is a large ring, probably the size of a hub cap," said Artie. "But we don't know its precise shape, nor exactly its ties to the cavern. Since the Egyptians embedded all their artifacts, or at least the ones they felt were important, within their stories, which just happened to be on the most readily available canvas—their walls—the correct cave will have the full explanation of the artifact we're looking for."

Pete reached the bottom of the stairs and he turned to make sure Myka had also safely reached the bottom. He smiled, jovially, like a true adventurer, and continued to walk on.

"Myka, if it's possible, continue to focus in on the walls around you," said Artie.

"Artie, I'm not actually there, remember?" said Myka.

Artie grunted and mumbled something unintelligible. "It's a narrow passageway," he said, emerging from his mumbling. "Use what you remember of the room to create the rest of the passage, particularly the story on the walls. It's not always about what you can remember looking at, but about what images your brain captured during that time."

The phone rang.

"Is that the phone?" asked Leena. Her footsteps ran off to somewhere away from the room.

The images on the television switched very suddenly from the vivid portrayal of the Egyptian cavern to a very detailed image of Pete being rushed through the emergency room doors in Egypt, gasping for air and clutching at the guardrails of his bed. His lips mouthed Myka's name as vessels popped from his neck and forehead. The medics pushed him down flat, tore his shirt open with a knife, and then used a long needle to poke a hole into his lungs through his ribs to help him breathe. His chest began to heave up and down again, and, almost instantly, he passed out from exhaustion.

"Whoa," said Claudia, under her breath.

"Whoa is right," said Artie.

"What?" asked Myka. The images on the screen flickered between the faces of Claudia and Artie, and then refocused on the Egyptian cavern.

"Artie?" said Leena, from somewhere beyond them. Arties footsteps moved away from the chair Myka was fastened in.

Myka opened her eyes and Claudia, seeing the screen go black, looked over at her friend. Myka looked around for Leena and saw she and Artie conversing under their breaths just a short ways away from them.

"That first series of images…" said Claudia, "you know, the one where Pete grabbed you by the belt to save you from getting hit by the cab?"

"Yes," said Myka. "What about it?"

"What was going on, there? Why weren't you paying attention?"

"I was digging through my purse for the Farnsworth," said Myka.

"Well, I gleaned that much," said Claudia. "But Pete was trying to tell you something and you weren't listening to him."

"I was…" Myka's voice trailed off. "I had a lot on my mind that day."

Artie reappeared at her side. "Pete is getting worse, we need to keep working."

"Worse?" asked Myka. "What does worse mean?"

"The infection is spreading to his internal organs," said Artie. "But since it is an unusual virus, that seems to originate or dwell in the Cricothyroid muscles, the doctors are unsure of how it will manifest as it spreads."

"So it is a voice box thing," said Claudia. "That's what Myka has been saying from the beginning."

"Yes," said Artie. "I thought we'd established the source of the infection?"

The three women looked at each other. "That must have been a conversation you had with your self," said Claudia.

Artie sighed. "The factors Myka pointed out to the doctors at the beginning, the odd sounds Pete was making, led the doctors to biopsy his larynx. The muscles that control the tone and pitch of the voice were causing a disruption to his epiglottis, which in turn affected his breathing, which is why they didn't start with examining the contents of the lungs. Whatever infected him is either so old or so new that it is unknown."

"How could it be old or new?" asked Leena.

"Pete and Myka traveled down into the resting place of some very old Egyptian royalty," said Artie. "Imagine how many diseases lie dormant in the remains of slaves or personal handmaidens."

Leena and Claudia made disgusted faces and thanked Artie for that visual. Leena caught sight of Myka, however, and stopped abruptly.

"Myka?"

Myka was pale, her eyes were wide, and her mouth gaped open slightly.

"Close your eyes, Myka," said Artie. "What were you just thinking of?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Warehouse 13 :||: Silence**

**Chapter 3**

**:||: Hospital :||:**

Pete opened his eyes for only the second time since arriving back in the United States. This time, Kelly was at his side, holding his hand as she dozed on his arm. When he flinched she woke up and looked around, startled. Then she saw his eyes open and a look of relief overtook her.

"Pete, baby?" she stood up and brushed her fingers across his forehead. His eyes were in pain. He opened his mouth, but the damage was now so extensive in his throat that he could make no sound. She shushed him. "Don't try to speak, the doctors say you can't. Do you need water?"

Pete nodded. Kelly turned around and retrieved a cup from a table behind her. She held the straw to his mouth and helped him drink. He rested his head back on his pillow. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead from the strain.

"Is everything ok?" asked Kelly, dipping her head lower so she could talk in a whisper. "You're giving me a strange look."

With a lot of effort, Pete reached up and touch Kelly's arm. She took his hand in hers and kissed it. "Damn it…" she whispered. "Why can't you talk to me?" She kissed his hand again. "Soon you'll be able to talk. Just rest for now."

Pete blinked his eyes and clenched his teeth together. When she looked at him again, he mouthed: "I need Myka."

"What?" asked Kelly.

He repeated the phrase: "I need Myka. MYKA."

"Myka?"

Pete nodded.

Her face had a pained expression, and she did feel slightly hurt, but she could also admit to herself that the woman who was with him at the moment of his injury might be more necessary to him in his condition. So, harboring her resentment, she nodded at him, told him she'd go give Myka a call, and then left the room. She glanced over her shoulder as she left and noticed that Pete had already fallen back asleep.

_He'll probably be asleep for a while,_ Kelly said to herself. And with that thought, she roamed off to the cafeteria for a bite.

**:||: The Egyptian Tomb :||:**

Myka took the torch from Pete who was bent low, using all his weight to push a large stone to the left of what appeared to be a sorry excuse for a door. It looked to weigh nearly 300 pounds and was the size of a small gorilla. After Pete propped his feet up on the wall for leverage, the stone began to move. As it shifted, something made a loud _thunk _within the wall, as though a bolt or another stone had fallen into place.

From the ground, Pete looked up at Myka, a wide-eyed curiosity that made her worry. Was he getting a vibe?

"Everything ok?" she asked, helping him to his feet.

"I didn't like the sound of that," he admitted.

"No vibe?"

"Nope. Nada." He crouched down and started through the opening in the wall. "It's very dusty. I think the wall is crumbling." He wormed and wiggled his way through the opening. Myka was surprised his broad shoulders made it through.

Myka scoffed. "This is centuries old stone. Of course it's dusty."

Pete sneezed. "Ahh. Allergies." His voice had grown much thinner through the thick, rock walls.

Myka pulled her pack from her back and dug out a couple of facemasks. "We'd better put these masks on," she said, raising her voice so he'd be sure to hear her. "There's no telling what we're going to encounter down here." She put one on.

Pete put his hand back through the opening. Myka tried to contain a smile, but unsuccessfully, she let the silly grin spread across her face. She knelt down and placed it in his hand, letting her hand touch his, ever so subtly. He said _Gracias_, and allowed her passage through. She shoved her pack through the opening and slipped through the hole much more easily than Pete had.

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. She smiled a thank you and he nodded, then handed her the pack back as he looked around. "I'm getting a bad vibe in here."

"Like a real bad vibe or a This-Can't-Be-Good vibe?" asked Myka.

"The second one," he said, distractedly. He was moving around in a big arc, staring at nothing in particular.

Then Myka looked around. The room they'd just entered was an unintentional tomb. A very narrow, winding staircase wrapped around the circular room all the way up the massive, curved walls to what had to be ground level. The center of the room housed a great alter, like one used for burning offerings to the gods.

"Where are we?" asked Pete, walking closer to the center of the room.

"Pete…don't…" said Myka, warningly. Her eyes were focused on the rotting skeletons of the unknowing prisoners, long dead in the midst of their ritual. Rats scurried everywhere and the howl of some great winds swirled in the air, as though the room had opened onto the skies of the desert. But no gust hit them. No rocks shifted, no dust swirled. It was just the presence of the wind that made Myka's stomach drop ever so subtly.

"They're pretty dead, Myka," said Pete, turning around casually. "I promise not to step on any trap doors or pull any ropes."

Myka rolled her eyes. "I don't like the way these skeletons are arranged around here," she said. "Do you see how they aren't preserved, or even placed in resting positions?"

Pete studied the closest skeleton, a look of disgust and dislike on his face. "Yeah…it was the first thing I noticed," he said sarcastically.

"These people died quickly, and very suddenly," said Myka. "They hadn't even finished their ritual before their lives were just taken from them." She walked to one skeleton at the very foot of the great staircase. She pulled gloves out of her pack and slipped them on. She pulled on the shoulder blade to make the skeleton sit upright. The head slumped forward and to the side.

"These ones look like they were struggling against someone," said Pete. He turned to face Myka and put a hand around his neck. "As if someone were choking them and they were prying at their hands to get loose."

"Good observation," she said. "I think that is kind of what this one is doing. One hand is drooped inefficiently at its side and the other is hovering at its collarbone." She stood up. "What happened here?" she asked aloud, though she was really just pondering the thought in her head.

"Hell if I know," said Pete, drawing in a breath. He removed his mask. "Hey, is this a good time for me to bounce some ideas off you?" He walked closer to her.

"Pete! Put your mask back on!" Myka said, her voice scaling multiple octaves. She made a movement toward him, as though she'd put the mask back on him herself if he did not comply.

"All right, all right," he said, holding up a hand. He slid the mask back on and made a face. "Happy?"

Myka huffed and blew a strand of hair out of her eye. "Satisfied," she said, "if that counts for anything." She looked around. "If there are any airborne diseases in here, Pete, then it is crucial that we keep these masks on! It is quite possible that we are the first to penetrate this room since it was sealed, since these people died." She spread her arms out and looked around the room impressively. The thought made her feel very miniscule, but a surge of energy, and a tingle of adventure, made her not care about her own significance.

"What if it's absorbed through the skin?" asked Pete. He rubbed his bare arm against the alter in the center of the room. "We're all gonna die?"

"Pete…we are here to find the source of the artifact," said Myka. "Stop messing around and focus."

"The source of the artifact isn't going to be somewhere that hasn't been _penetrated_ longer than the artifact has been in existence," said Pete, throwing up his hands. "We're wasting our time in here. Besides, I can't focus, Myka. I really need to talk to you about something."

**:||: Warehouse 13 :||:**

"So am I seeing this right?" asked Claudia. "Not only did Pete remove his mask, he also rubbed his skin against that gross, old, infested piece of rock?" Myka didn't answer; she was focused on the memory, but instead of moving forward, scenes seemed to replay in her mind as though she was trying to get something right, or more accurate.

"This could mean any number of things," said Artie, thoughtfully tapping his chin. "He could have contracted a real, ancient disease by taking off that mask. The filtering of oxygen would have prolonged its infestation, which would explain why his symptoms didn't surface for another 12 hours. Momentary exposure was enough. Prolonged exposure would have turned him into one of the skeletons in that sanctuary." He swiveled around in his chair a couple times.

The screen changed again from Myka's memory of the Egyptian tomb to the one of Pete gasping for air in the emergency room.

"Myka," said Leena, soothingly, placing a hand on Myka's shoulder, whose eyes were still shut tight. "It's going to be all right." Leena glanced at Claudia, whose features were battling between amusement and horrification.

Artie, oblivious to Myka's change in demeanor, had gotten out of his chair and was walking around in a tight circle. "Of course in our line of work this kind of thing is bound to happen, but what are the chances that he'd have contracted a real disease rather than a curse by the artifact…" He stopped quite suddenly. "What did the actress suffer from, again?" he asked the room.

"The actress…?" said Leena, confused.

"The actress…the actress on whom we found the necklace that originated in that cave," said Artie, spinning around.

"The actress!" said Claudia. "She was possessed, I believe, wasn't she, Myka?"

Myka opened her eyes. "Most of the tabloids are calling it demon possession," she said, with heavy skepticism. "She'd had the necklace since she was a child, but according to her mother, it only became really essential to her wardrobe since she became successful and it was a part of her _look_."

Artie splayed out his hands. "Okay... I didn't hear an explanation in there anywhere."

Myka frowned. "The answer isn't incredibly simple, Artie. From what information Pete and I gathered in Egypt, and from watching video of Tina and interviewing her crew and close friends, her behavior was three-toned." She sat up a little straighter. "It was as though she literally had three personalities that all seem to coincide with the Freudian concepts of the id, ego, and superego. Each personality had a distinct voice, we discovered, and based on what a couple friends said, we think they were all three present, as in, clearly displaying themselves, up to half of the time she spent around people."

Artie put a hand to his face. "That is remarkable... drawing out each element of the psyche in such a way that it can literally act on it's own at times. Remarkable..." his voice trailed off and he turned around to ponder this further.

"We were never able to pin down which three gods it was trying to impersonate, you know. Which three ancient Egyptian gods would but she became so unnaturally afraid of a cat, that the necklace itself tried to get away from her."

"What?" said Leena, almost laughing.

"It was possessing her so that it wanted to leave contact with her skin, it had become so entwined with her body that it sensed the cat," said Myka.

"How on earth could a necklace…" Leena began, her voice began to fade even before Artie cut her off.

"The necklace was so fearful of a cat that it wanted to part from it's host, the only thing that gave it meaning," said Artie. He'd stopped pacing now and was staring at a spot on the ceiling. "That must mean that it also possesses some element of desire, or withdrawal, perhaps. That even though the host would want to take it off, it emanates its radiance so much that someone else would put it on, or that the host would forget about the manner in which the necklace possessed him or her that it would cause them to put it back on once the danger had passed."

Myka sat up. "Yes, that's exactly it," she said, quietly. "When she took the necklace off, I wanted it. I wanted it so badly that I lunged for it. I didn't know what was happening, but the next thing I'm conscious of is Pete holding me by the waist, restraining me. He told me to look away and cover my eyes, and he went in himself and neutralized it."

Claudia and Leena laughed, because the images that had just came across the screen was a scene of women clawing at one another to get the necklace that Tina had just taken off and set on a table. Artie frowned and turned away just as one of Pete's arms wrapped around Myka's waist.

"What did you and Pete find in Egypt, then?" asked Claudia, intentionally bumping into the chair Myka sat in, jarring Myka from her fixation on Pete. "Freud was...Austrian, wasn't he? Why would anything related to Freud be found in Egypt."

"Well, when the necklace was afraid of the cat, I started to expand my thinking," said Myka. "After it had been neutralized, I was able to see more closely the engravings on the necklace. The whole thing _looks_Egyptian."

Artie, not paying attention to Myka, found his spot on the ceiling again to talk to. "Freud might have been the first to put a name to the three parts of the psyche, but he certainly didn't _invent _them. Tracing Egyptian mythos back several thousand years we find that many of the Egyptian gods and goddesses possess all _three_of these qualities. Many philosophers and scientists alike have related the dark god Set to Freud's three elements of the psyche." He growled deep and low, in excitement and wonder. "Egypt was filled with destruction and death, slavery and passion, and being in the middle of the desert, it is no wonder. Their fears, represented in their hieroglyphs, make it abundantly clear that they feared these things at a very primal level, and it manifested in the way their mythology was conceptualized."

Claudia sighed. "I heard... 'Freud...blah blah blah...Egyptian mythos...blah blah blah...'"

"Did you find anything in the Egyptian cave that might indicate where the necklace was forged?" Artie asked, ignoring Claudia.

"We were only in there that one time," said Myka. "But we had very little clues as to what we were looking for. I only had the patterns of the necklace to work with." She shook her head. "Pete and I returned to the city that night to do some research and interview the locals, try to find a lead that might help us understand how we might need to change our search."

"Which, of course, is when Pete was hospitalized," said Leena, softly.

Myka nodded. "Yeah. We'd just finished dinner."

Artie thought carefully. "Well, based on what we know about the necklace that was possessing the young actress...um, Tina? Did you say?"

"Good grief, Artie," said Claudia, throwing up her hands. "Everyone knows Tina Tallarico. She's been in everything!"

Artie rolled his eyes and ignored her comment. "Based on what we know of how the necklace possessed Tina, we know that the same artifact did not come into contact with Pete." He crossed his arms. "Which means, as I was deducing before, he either came into contact with a completely new artifact, or he has contracted a real disease or infection."

Myka cast a wary look at Claudia, who was consoling, and to Myka's relief, sparing. She diverted the attention. "How about we keep watching Myka's memory, Artie? There's got to be something."

Artie nodded. "We know Pete will touch, lick, wear, lift, pull, kick, or poke anything, Myka. Can you just narrow in on your memories of Pete inside the cave, and then we'll return to the figuring-out-the-artifact part when we've got him cured?"

Myka nodded and lay down in the chair again. "Um, okay. This is from when we're leaving that tomb room."

**:||: The Egyptian Cave :||:**

Pete took the bag from Myka through the small opening as he led the way out of the tomb. When Myka was on her feet again, dusting herself off, he was safely securing his face mask back inside the bag. He handed it to her and then crouched down to begin the arduous task of resealing the tomb opening.

"That was a very unnatural place," said Myka, still eyeing the concealed entrance warily. "It's like it was unintentional, but someone conspired to lock them in there."

"Might've been punishment," said Pete. "Ah, well. Let's go down this way. There's one level left, I think."

"How do you know?" asked Myka, following him cautiously.

"That map thingy as we walked in," he said casually. "Had three levels on it."

"Map?" said Myka, coming to a halt. "There was no map."

"Sure there was," said Pete, turning around. "It was next to that large stony thing that you said something boringly historic about. I thought you glanced at it and just captured it." He raised his hands up to his face like he was holding a camera, then made a _click_sound. Myka raised an eyebrow. Pete shrugged. "You and that memory of yours." He sighed. "Whatevs, it didn't have the tomb on it," he jerked his thumb toward the hole they'd just used to access that, "so I think you're right about it not being intentional."

"You seem to remember it pretty well," said Myka, very impressed.

"Yeah, well I stared at it the whole time you were talking about Adolphus Perrywinkle…"

"I get it, you weren't listening. Well, what else did it say?" she urged.

"It didn't _say_ anything, it was just pictures," said Pete, looking proud. "The one thing I _can_read. Okay, okay. It had the first two levels that we walked through, the basic rooms for shelter, storing food, and things. Then this level was just this open space here, with what looked like no entrances. But that," he said, pointing to the stone guarding the door, "is no secret. And then there is the floor below us. But it didn't have any markers that I could identify to tell us what might be down there."

Myka shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't see it. All right, then. Lead the way." He grinned at her, puffed out his chest, and picked the torch up off the wall they'd set it in before going into the unintentional tomb.

She followed him down the steps. He dragged one hand along the wall the whole way down, but less in a Pete-making-trouble sort of way, and more in a manner that suggested he was guiding himself down a staircase of which they were unfamiliar. Horrors could wait for them at the bottom. But Myka did not mimic this movement of his. She stayed a couple steps behind him.

At the bottom, Pete waited for Myka to join him at his side before moving on.

"It is as dark as death down here," he whispered, holding the torch high. "The map showed the space down here like a large triangle." They still were in a narrow passageway, but as the light fell on things to come, a broader space of floor lit up ahead of them and Myka focused on that.

"I think we should put on our masks again," she whispered, barely audibly. "Oh, I really hate Artie right now."

"You're tellin' me," said Pete. "This is not the safest thing we've ever done." He stopped walking while she pulled the masks out of her bag and handed one to him. He tried to put it on with one hand, but when he was unsuccessful, she took the torch from him, then traded again to put on her own.

"Pete?" said Myka, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't pick anything up. Or touch anything," she said. Pete just laughed. He didn't promise, and she knew, deep down, that she couldn't make him promise any such thing. She could try and try and he would forever remain resilient to her recommendations; perhaps until it killed him. And in their line of work, it wasn't unheard of.

The doorway to the last room was lined with flaking specs of gold, or an ancient, gold-like coating of some sort. It was thick and tough like stone, and only stood high enough that Pete and Myka nearly skinned the tops of their heads on the top frame. When they stepped through the door, the torch illuminated the space and all along the walls torches lit up.

Startled, they both cowered back toward the door. When the torches kept going and going down the massively sized room, they regained their composure and looked around.

"This has to be the length of a football field," said Pete, awed. "How do you suppose it did that? Lit all the torches?"

Myka shook her head. Some ancient magic, or other, or perhaps the supernatural quality of the room. If they were going to find any clues as to the necklace's origins, Myka was confident it would be in this room.

"Hey hey hey!" said Pete, in his sing-song sound of pleasure. "Look at this Myks!"

She turned and saw what he was looking at. The walls! The walls were _covered_in hieroglyphs. Stories upon stories. She moved along the wall, examining it carefully, determined not to miss anything else.

"What does it say?" asked Pete.

"I think it is a series of instructions," said Myka, still walking along the wall. "Either instructions, or a story that is instruction-like." She looked at Pete, and he held his usual scrunched up face that indicated he didn't understand. "Like fables?"

"Ahh," he said. "All right, so look for anything that has the appearance of a necklace?"

Myka nodded half-heartedly. "A necklace, or even the patterns on the necklace. I assume, if this is the place we're looking for, that it will have to, at some point, indicate _what_it is trying to make or protect. They always do. In the pyramids, ancient Pharaohs are given distinct markers in the drawings of themselves to make it clear, if one studies history, to which Pharaoh the tomb belongs."

"Ow!" Pete jerked his hand away from the wall. "Dang it. Ow!"

"What is it?" asked Myka, rushing over.

"I think I cut it on the stone," said Pete. He nodded at the place in front of him where he had been touching the wall. A small pool of blood gathered on the hieroglyph, and in the next moment it was absorbed into the wall. Myka reached up to touch it herself, but Pete grabbed her hand. "Are you crazy? I just cut myself on that."

Tearing her eyes away, Myka focused on his hand again. "Let's get some ointment and a bandage on that, just in case." She pulled off her pack again and rummaged through for the small first aid kit.

**:||: Warehouse 13 :||:**

"Hold up, Myka," said Claudia, tapping the screen. "What did he cut himself on?"

"The wall," said Myka. "There was nothing sharp there, I checked. He must have just been _being Pete_while my back was turned."

"This is exactly the kind of thing we were looking for though," said Artie. "He cut himself on the wall... can you rewind an show us that bit of wall again."

"Rewind?" said Myka, amused.

"You know what I mean," said Artie, waving his hand like he was batting a fly.

Myka laughed and revisited the part of her memory that held the picture of the wall. The sound of Myka's cell phone ringing cut through the quiet and the steady influx of Myka's memory shifted to a picture of her cell phone ringing, Pete's name and face appearing on the screen. Claudia giggled.

"Do you want me to answer it?" Leena asked.

"Only if it's Pete," said Myka.

"It _is_Pete," said Leena. Her voice sounded stunned. "Pete?"

Myka sat up quickly and the image on the screen went blank. She had jerked something loose. She quickly removed The Ring and hurried over to Leena.

"It's Kelly," said Leena, covering the mouthpiece and whispering to Myka. "Ok, Kelly. I'll tell her." She hung up the phone. "She said that Pete woke up briefly and asked for you." She handed the phone to Myka. Dazed, Myka took the phone and stared at it, as though hoping it would ring again.

"I've got to go," said Myka. "I'll be back."

"Myka! Isn't finding out what's _wrong_with Pete more important?" Claudia called after her. But Myka didn't turn back around as she blazed through the office and out into the tunnel.

"It's OK Claudia," said Artie. "We've got it on tape."

"I'm no expert in hieroglyphs," said Leena, walking toward Artie, like she was approaching a deathly animal. Her eyes were somewhere else though, thinking hard. "But did that wall say what I _think_it said?"

Artie ran a hand through his hair and wiped his brow. "We'll need to watch it again, just to make sure, but I'm at least certain it wasn't anything good."

"What do you think it said, Leena?" asked Claudia. She was queuing the disc for them to watch what they'd recorded of Myka's memory.

"It looked like what we call the _Treasure Hunter's Curse_," said Leena. "It is present in every pyramid, cave, tomb, or wherever the Egyptians hid their wealth. It comes in many varieties, but generally it prohibits the person who penetrated the barriers from being able to tell others where it is, and then eventually lead to the person's death so that they could not make use of the treasure."

Claudia stood up. "So why did it affect Pete? He couldn't have contracted the curse just by _touching_the wall, could he? The Egyptians wouldn't have relied on that small likelihood."

"No. I think the wall probably caused his bleeding finger, but I wouldn't bet, just yet, that he was cursed by _touching_ the_ wall_," said Artie. "And since Myka's showing no similar symptoms, he must have touched or done _something _different than she."


	4. Chapter 4

**Warehouse 13 :||: Silence**

* * *

Sorry for the delay :) Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**:||: Hospital :||:**

Veins popped out of Pete's neck like a kinked water hose. His face was red and beaded with sweat and his back arched up and off his hospital bed. Three male nurses were holding his limbs down, but Pete didn't seem to be conscious of what he was doing. His eyes were shut, brow furrowed, lips tightly sealed.

"We need to sedate him!" one of the nurses yelled over Pete's racket. "Jimmy, we can handle him, go get the needle."

Jimmy let go of Pete's feet and, without anything to push his body against, Pete fell down to the bed, continuing to writhe. A female nurse rushed into the room holding a needle. She stuck it in the side of Pete's arm as Jimmy took hold of Pete's feet again.

Myka heard the banging and clanging all the way down the hall and arrived just in time to see Pete's body go limp on the bed. The nurses stepped back, looking at one another with wary expressions. Jimmy turned to leave and noticed her hovering by the door.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you..." he began.

Myka pulled out her Secret Service badge and showed it to him. "I'm with the Secret Service. This man is my partner."

Jimmy's eyes flitted from the badge to Myka's face. "Oh, _you're_ the partner?" He turned to look at the other nurses and they all seemed to have made a connection.

Myka didn't notice it. Her eyes were on Pete. "Can you update me on his status?"

Jimmy looked out the door behind her. "That woman there is his doctor. Dr. Kern. She will be able to give you the run down."

"Thank you," Myka said. Glancing at Pete, she walked back out of the room and toward the doctor Jimmy had just pointed out to her. "Hello," she said. The doctor was looking at a clipboard and it took a moment before the woman looked up at her. "Hi, my name is Myka... I'm with the Secret Service and Pete..." she pointed to the room where Pete was, "is my partner. Can you give me an update on his status?"

Dr. Kern lowered her clipboard and quickly managed her face, but she didn't fool Myka. She saw the look of pity and regret that skidded through her eyes. The woman handed the clipboard to the nurse behind the counter, whispered something, and then put a consoling hand on Myka's back and led her toward Pete. The woman was a good head or two shorter than Myka, but this gesture, and the fact that the doctor held all the knowledge she needed, made her feel very small. By the time they got to the door of Pete's room, Myka felt like she were ten years old again.

"Agent..."

"Bering," said Myka, quickly. "But, please, call me Myka."

The woman nodded. "Myka, we've been able to deduce two things about your partner. One, he's been poisoned. Two, and this I believe was quite obvious, he doesn't seem to be able to speak." She looked up at Myka seriously. "The poison is unidentifiable. Whatever he came into contact with in Egypt, it is unique to our databases. We have been able to _manage_ it so that it doesn't become worse. However, until we find the source we cannot create an antidote."

"What do you know about the poison?" Myka asked, crossing her arms. Finally, something solid to latch onto. If Artie was right about the curse, then the poison might be the first step to tracing its origins. Fleetingly, Myka thought about the cursed necklace, but she couldn't make any connections quickly enough.

Dr. Kern cleared her throat. "It was airborne when he contracted it," she said. "It was a small dose that is only lethal if left untreated and will cause permanent brain damage if left uncured. The behavior of the poison is not uncommon, particularly due to the fact that you were in Cairo, or the surrounding area, when Agent Lattimer was infected. That area, historically, has been known to have older establishments that release toxins from within its own walls, a sort of defense mechanism for intruders that has grown increasingly unstable over the centuries. Of course, the government in the last fifty years has attempted to tear down these older buildings so as to avoid infecting their own people, but there are still areas that have been left untouched." She unhooked the clipboard at the end of Pete's bed and examined it. "You do understand that the only reason I can tell you this is because of your position within the government?"

Myka nodded.

"The Egyptian government, of course, cannot know you were in a cave in the middle of their desert," said Dr. Kern, lowering her voice. "As the hospital liaison, it would be unwise for me to divulge this information to any non-Warehouse employee."

Myka's eyes widened. "You know about the Warehouse?"

Dr. Kern gave her a single nod. "I know only of it's essentials, and how to contact Artie if there is a suspect situation." She shook her head. "The thing is, if the poison were all that was wrong with Agent Lattimer, I would not have suspected anything. It's the constricting larynx that troubles me."

"How so?" Myka urged.

Dr. Kern walked to Pete's side, and Myka was close at her side. "The poison entered through his nostrils," said Dr. Kern. "He most likely sniffed something that drew the poison out of it's hiding place."

Myka restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like Pete."

"After the poison saturated his nostrils, it infected his white blood cells, which, as I'm sure you know, are the immune system. Well, that alone would not mean anything out of the ordinary, but coupled with the laryngitis it makes no sense. White blood cells do not affect someone's vocal chords, unless they are very, _very_ unlucky, and even then the interaction is minimal. What I'm pointing out here, though, is that the poison did not cause the damage to the vocal chords," said Dr. Kern.

"Are you saying you don't know what did?" asked Myka.

Dr. Kern bit her lip. "Believe me when I say that we have run every possible test, Myka. There is no connection between the two, nor is there any _physical_explanation for his laryngitis."

Myka narrowed her eyes and pondered this. "But you _do_have a theory, don't you?"

Another single nod. "I believe that the constriction is psychological," said Dr. Kern, lowering her voice again. "Artie can tell you better than I, but there are some very nasty stories, from the Warehouse and beyond, about Egyptian curses. Most theories, the reliable ones anyway, seem to agree that the curse permeates the psychosis, as though it is the brain that convinces the body that something is wrong, rather than physically inflicting the ailment."

Myka crossed her arms. "If I didn't know so much about the Warehouse, I would have said you are off your rocker."

Dr. Kern sighed. "In my line of work, Myka, we don't settle for _unexplainable phenomenon_, if we can help it, anyway. We will continue to run tests as we see fit, monitor his progress, and look into poisons the Egyptian Center for Disease hasn't thought relevant enough to release data on."

"This was all very helpful," said Myka, shaking Dr. Kern's hand. "I appreciate you keeping me in the loop." She wanted the doctor to stay until she could think of more questions, but she was drawing blanks.

Dr. Kern smiled. "I don't think it would be appropriate to tell his girlfriend any of what I told you," the woman whispered, raising her eyebrows. "But you know that."

Myka gave her a half smile and the doctor left, replacing the clipboard at the end of Pete's bed. Myka pulled up a chair and sat next to him, watching his face act like a statue before her eyes.

"Hi, Pete," she said, whispering hoarsely. She reached up and took his hand and held it between two of hers. She stroked his tough skin for several moments before she could think of anything else to say. "Kelly told me you wanted to talk to me, or see me. I didn't actually talk to her so I don't know exactly." She bit her lip and inhaled deeply, willing the tears to stay locked up in the ducts behind her eyes.

There was some noise outside the door of his room and it made Myka lose concentration. She looked out and watched as a bed was wheeled passed the doors. A younger couple peered inside the room where Myka sat with Pete, completely unashamedly staring in. Myka averted her eyes and looked at Pete again.

"I've made you a list of reasons you need to get better," Myka said, still holding Pete's hand. "Would you like to hear them?"

Pete didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't show any sign of registering Myka's words.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," said Myka, smiling in spite of herself. She sniffed and wiped off a tear that was pooling in her eye. She had to pull herself together. There was still a lot of be done and she couldn't get anything done if she became blubbery.

She closed her eyes and recalled the list that she formulated on the way to the hospital. "Okay, first reason. Pete, you need to get better because we still haven't figured out what happened to Tina. Every mystery that the Warehouse has thrown in our way, we have solved together. So, you can't bail before we figure that out." She gripped his hand more tightly and took deep breaths as she tried to bring her mind back to even ground.

:||: **Warehouse **:||:

"If it is a Treasure Hunter's curse, it's unlike one I have ever seen," said Artie. He and Leena were fixated on a single frame from the movie captured by Myka's impeccable memory.

"My Ancient Egyptian is a bit rusty," said Claudia, tapping the remote against her palm impatiently. "Care to share what we're looking at?"

"Well, for starters," said Artie, crossing his arms and laying them on his belly, "hieroglyphics are rarely specific. Egyptians used them for story telling in the most figurative sense. When reading glyphs, the interpreter must decide whether a glyph is meant to be semantic, or carry meaning, or whether it is meant to be phonetic and expressing a very specific element. There are enough glyphs that can only be one or another, so it is possible to glean from the surrounding elements how they are to be interpreted."

"Yeah, thanks for that," said Claudia, rolling her eyes. "I meant less specifically, what are we looking at?"

Artie grunted dispassionately. "Essentially, from what I can decipher of the grainy picture, the glyphs all indicate some sort of instruction. Most of these hieroglyphs are meant to be taken literally, but there are characters that imply secrets, or silence. Or perhaps both."

"Claudia, press play again," said Leena. The movie began playing and they watched the glyphs advance along the wall.

"Pause," said Artie, standing quickly. "Now this, this right here..." he pointed at the screen. "See how all of these symbols, the _Sa_, the _Udjat_, the _Shen_, yes, especially the _Shen_, all of these symbols surround the image of the child?"

"I'll take your word for it," said Claudia, watching closely.

"Oh gosh," said Leena, standing up. "That's not just any child."

"No, it certainly isn't," said Artie. He looked pleased that Leena was seeing what he was seeing.

"The single finger to the mouth," said Leena, pointing at the grainy, yet distinguishable, picture. "That is a graphical interpretation of Harpocrates."

"Harp-who now?" asked Claudia.

"Harpocrates," said Artie. "The child Horus. The god of silence."

"But that was not so in Egypt," said Leena, curiously. "The Greeks mistook the image of the child Horus as a _hush of silence_, rather than its symbolism as a child. I mean, Harpocrates is considered _late_ Greek mythology."

"These caves weren't discovered until the late 1700s, by Warehouse 10, and we haven't ventured through its doors since its initial discovery," said Artie. "There is no doubt that this is a depiction of the _Greek_ god, not the Egyptian god."

"What the hell would the Greeks be doing, building a cave in the middle of..." Claudia began.

Artie was shaking his head. "The Greeks have always had a huge presence in Egypt. The existence of a Greek cave in Egypt is unheard of, and certainly the Warehouse agents who discovered this cave did not figure it out, but it is not unrealistic. In the last 50-some years their presence has seriously diminished, but historically they've settled all over the country."

"So, let me see if I'm understanding this..." said Claudia, walking around the screen so that she could see Artie's and Leena's faces. "A tomb built by the Greeks contains Egyptian hieroglyphics and was probably built around 1700?"

Artie waved his hands frantically and made a face that suggested Claudia had gotten it all wrong. "In early, B.C. Greece, hieroglyphs were known solely as symbolic, sacred writings, but it is little known that the Greeks who lived with Egyptians were quite often taken as slaves and trained to be sent into the pyramids or caves after the burial of a king to carve these hieroglyphs into the walls. It is a well kept secret, and for good reason."

"And what reason might that be?" asked Claudia. She was lost, totally lost, as to where all this information was leading. But she knew, as well as any of them, that Artie wouldn't be able to process anything until he laid out all of the finer details. His process could be dreary and cumbersome, but when followed through he generally came out with phenomenal conclusions.

"Had the Grecians known that their own were being enslaved by the Egyptians, there would have been much more animosity between the two nations than already existed," said Leena, calmly. "They got along just well enough to keep trading open and moving between the countries and across the Mediterranean in general. The Greeks were and are a very proud people and did not condone the forced servitude that the Egyptians have been known for throughout all of their history."

"So, come modern times," said Artie, pacing around the cramped office again, "or at least in the last thousand years, the Grecians must have built down _into_ the earth, because that was the only place that the Egyptians could be kept out of their own piece of culture?" He stopped short and raised a finger. "No!" He spun around wearing a manic smile on his face that worried Claudia. "There is no _culture_ in this cave. There was nothing that Myka showed us that would indicate the proud Grecian heritage." He plucked the remote out of Claudia's grip and rewound the movie, pointing at the screen, though at nothing in particular, as he did so. "I saw it…I saw it…" He let out a cry and played the movie again. Pete and Myka had just exited the unintentional tomb. "Look on the wall behind Pete as he grabs the torch."

The wall behind Pete was covered in a mural, depicting a myriad of what appeared to be persons in bondage. The walls were so aged that it couldn't quite be clear who the figures were, but Artie pointed out the symbols of _oppression_ and _slavery_ and it was not contested that this was a mural of slavery.

"This isn't a tomb," said Artie, "this was a death trap and a weapon against a greedy people." He turned to face Claudia and Leena. "The Grecians must have lured some of their oppressors into the tomb, trapped them in the sanctuary, and set up that last room as an explanation for anyone who found the tomb later…"

"…knowing full well that only an Egyptian would know to what it was referring to exactly," Leena finished.

"Precisely," said Artie. He sat down heavily in his chair and it slid back. He folded his hands behind his head and stared at Claudia, as though he'd just solved the whole puzzle.

"Artie…" said Claudia, holding out an arm in confusion. "What does this have to do with Pete?"

"Where's the Farnsworth? I need to call Myka."

**:||: Hospital :||:**

Myka had stood up from Pete's bedside when the Farnsworth began to buzz. She was facing the wall, giving herself a hushed pep talk to keep herself together, arms tightly crossed and just seconds away from pacing. She pulled the Farnsworth out of her back pocket and popped it open, moving at the same time to the door of Pete's room and pulling it shut.

"Myka, Myka…" said Artie, hastily.

"Yes, Artie, I'm here. What's up?" she said, trying to concentrate her attention fully on her mentor.

"We've made a couple of discoveries. Are you alone?" Artie asked.

"Yes," said Myka. "I mean, Pete's here, but he's sedated."

"How is he?" Claudia's head popped into view and Myka saw Artie's hand try and push her face away. "Good grief, Artie. It's Pete! Don't you want to know how Pete's doing?"

"I do, I do. But if we don't move quickly, we won't be able to acquire an antidote fast enough," said Artie, regaining the spot in front of the Farnsworth camera and fixing his glasses. Myka waited impatiently for him to continue. "First of all, the cave you and Pete entered was _not_, as we originally believed, an Egyptian tomb. It was built by Greek slaves to lure Egyptians into, trap, torture, and ultimately murder."

Myka's breath caught in her throat. "So that cavernous room we were in…that really was an unintentional tomb?"

"Unintentional for the Egyptians trapped there, yes. Not unintentional for the Grecians who built it with the plan of trapping them there." His breathing was labored. "The last room that you were in…that was a story of the Greek slaves and a curse to anyone who defiled the sanctuary ."

"Defiled?" said Myka, numbly. She felt her lips tingle. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Artie. "I am sure it curses something else, but there is not enough of the wall for me to decipher."

"Why are you sure it curses something else?" said Myka.

Leena tilted the Farnsworth toward herself. "The room was shaped like a triangle, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Myka. "Pete said that it was like that on the map at the cave's entrance, too."

"No cave was ever built with a three-wall room," said Leena. "It just wasn't done."

"What are you saying?" said Myka. "That there is another room there? Or that it caved in?"

"I think that there is another wall, at the very least, that the wall that Pete pricked his finger on opens up," said Leena. "Whether there is another room beyond, I cannot be certain."

"Honestly, I don't know much about the Greek culture in Egypt," said Myka, "so there isn't much I can offer…" She thought quickly for a moment, scanning her memory for something useful. "But if the Greeks built it to look like an Egyptian tomb, then I'd guess that they included very Egyptian elements to the structure, in which case there is most certainly a room behind that wall. I didn't know, however, that rooms are never four walls. Are you sure that is Egyptian?"

Leena nodded. "It isn't just Egyptian, it's structural. Caves are significantly less stable when rooms are included that have less than four walls."

Myka's brain began to work double time. "If that's true, then perhaps there was treasure hidden beyond," she said.

"That is very likely," said Artie, pulling the Farnsworth back to face him. "I need you to go back to Egypt with me, Myka."

Myka felt her eyes bog out of her head. "You've got to be kidding me, Artie. Look at Pete!" She turned the Farnsworth to show a sedated Pete, harnessed onto his bed. "They have to strap him in because he keeps having fits." She turned the Farnsworth back on her face. "Besides, he asked for me. He might have something important to tell me."

"I'm sorry, Myka, I know you care about Pete's well-being, but this is more important in terms of finding a cure," said Artie, impatiently. "Whatever Pete might have to tell you, it can wait until we get back."

"What if it can't? What if I don't get that chance?" said Myka. She felt like she was panicking, but she couldn't help it. Leaving Pete at this stage…without knowing what he wanted to say to her, without getting the opportunity at least once more to tell him…

But what was it that she wanted to tell him? Did she really just want to blurt out her feelings for him? She knew that he had been trying to tell her something about Kelly all week. Whether it was to ask her opinion on if he should tell the woman the secret of their job or something less serious, she couldn't be sure, and she was trying desperately to avoid that conversation. Knowing that he felt so seriously about Kelly made her less inclined to interject, throw her own feelings into the mix so that she faced rejection and an awkward work-relationship as well as forcing Pete to make a decision over two women he cared about. Whether they were romantic or not, Pete cared about Myka, she knew this. But did he think about her the way she thought about him?

This thought froze Myka and she didn't hear anything Artie was saying.

"Sorry, Artie, what was that?" she said, scratching her head.

Artie let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I said, you have four hours to spend at the hospital. I need to make a couple arrangements, then I will pick you up on the way to the airport."

"All right," said Myka. It was better than nothing.

"Four hours. OK?" said Artie.

"I got it," said Myka. She shut the Farnsworth and turned to face Pete.

The tension in his face had eased, as though the sedation had given way to rest and he was sleeping peacefully now. She thought the list of reasons she'd made, the reasons Pete had to get better. They all seemed pointless now. Except for one.


End file.
